


Keeper of Lust

by foxjar



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Kitagawa Yusuke, Drama, First Time, Gangbang, M/M, Minor Kurusu Akira/Original Male Character(s), Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Top Kurusu Akira
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: Yusuke is determined to find out why Akira has a Jail.Akira reaches across the table to squeeze Yusuke's arm. It isn't rough, but the suddenness strikes Yusuke as strange; he can't remember the last time Akira touched him like this. It was before Akira left Tokyo, back when he shared his smile so easily, as if the expression alone brought him joy. But now, he has lost that — one of the parts of him that Yusuke cherished the most."Don't," Akira says, finally looking at him again, catching his gaze and holding it. "Don't go near it, Yusuke. We'll deal with it when the time comes."
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	1. The Arrest of Kitagawa Yusuke

**Author's Note:**

> This involves Jails and "Shadow Akira," but I haven't played Scramble outside of the demo, so there aren't any spoilers.
> 
> The chapter titles are from the first three stories in "Arsene Lupin, Gentleman Burglar." They also inspired a variety of themes throughout this story.
> 
> Sex-related tags are sparse for now until the scene itself.
> 
> Daybreakers Month prompt: heist.

Leblanc has changed. It's only been half a year since Yusuke last visited, but the booth seat feels different, less comfortable than he remembers. Even the air in the cafe is different. Less welcoming. Part of the change is Akira, sitting across from him, watching him with a look Yusuke doesn't recognize, an incomprehensible stare as if it's a stranger sitting in front of him.

This is their first time speaking in so long — the last time they met up in person was when everyone took the trip over to Akira's hometown, delivering him back to the family that had abandoned him — but it doesn't feel like it. If Yusuke didn't know the truth, he'd almost be willing to believe that it's been less than a week. Ever since they met, he's kept Akira and the other Phantom Thieves close to his heart. Not a day goes by where he doesn't think of them, as fleeting as the reminiscence might be. Time passes differently when he doesn't have the burden of plundering Palaces and stealing Treasure weighing on his shoulders. Time crawls, time sprints. He's back to as normal of a life as he'll ever have, but it doesn't quite feel that way.

Especially not now.

"You didn't text me for six months," Akira says, hand around a cup of coffee that he has yet to take a single sip from. The mug is covered in tiny black cats yowling and playing with a ball of yarn — a gift from Ann. He sounds tired; it is the voice of a man who has shouldered far too many burdens in his short life thus far. "You didn't call, either."

"I did not request your company here to discuss that," Yusuke says carefully, noting how Akira's eyes dart away from him. It will be difficult to extract the answers that he's looking for, but Yusuke is in it for the long haul. He wouldn't be here if he weren't.

"I know."

"Ryuji informed me that —"

Akira slams his fist on the table, causing droplets of coffee to spray across Yusuke's face. The liquid has long since grown cold, and he can't help but think about how Akira isn't one to waste coffee; if anything, he would offer Yusuke the remnants of whatever food he was consuming. But something is different now, and maybe Akira has forgotten all of the times he has shared various pastries with Yusuke, laughing when he ended up having to brush some icing off of his chin. Yusuke never forgot, and he holds those sweet memories in his chest, closer to his heart than even art itself.

It's those moments that have made his life tolerable. Even more than that, the friendships Yusuke has fostered with the ex-Phantom Thieves gave him a newfound hope. No longer does he labor in darkness, painting until his arms ache and eyes burn, gaining little but crippling anxiety as another man takes credit for his work. That time in his life has passed.

"I know what Ryuji said." Akira still won't look at him, shoulders slumped as his finger traces the rim of his mug. "That I've been sleeping around and he just happened to find a video or two online."

"He is worried about you," Yusuke says, not bothering to try to correct Akira. Ryuji had told him it was dozens of videos, an entire channel online dedicated to Akira's sexual adventures, primarily with much older men. Although it isn't their place to judge Akira on who he is intimate with, the timing struck Ryuji as odd. Yusuke agreed. It isn't just because they've had issues staying in contact for the past few months; there's more to it than that.

There is Akira's Jail to consider now, as well. Along with the change in his demeanor and the actions depicted in the videos, Yusuke can't help but think it must somehow all be tied together. He hasn't seen any of the videos himself, but Ryuji told him about them, insisting that he watched them so that he could better help their friend. His voice had sped up when he was describing the videos to him, a little breathier than normal, and he kept rubbing his hands together as he rambled on and on, but Yusuke hadn't inquired about that. It was understandable that the things he saw might have made him jittery.

As little as they understand about Jails now, they know they're similar to Palaces. Tied to their mystery and mechanics in some way. But why would Akira, of all people, have such a place, born from the distortions in his heart? It must be a fluke. Some kind of mistake. But when Yusuke looks at Akira, his eyes twitching and the coffee in his cup sloshing around as he clenches it, he isn't so sure.

"If Ryuji is so worried, why is it you who's talking to me right now?" The corner of Akira's mouth curls into a grin, as if this is some sort of damning revelation that Yusuke should be ashamed of.

"Because I care about you —"

"Enough to not contact me for half a year?

"I told you, I lost service. I have apologized for my carelessness multiple times now." He doesn't tell Akira about the pit he had found himself in, spiraling down and down into an abyss of self-loathing. After what they had achieved together, he should have been happier than he's ever been, but it just hurt. He forced himself to paint to no avail, and he ended up tearing at most of his canvases, clawing at them with his bare fingers until his nails were bloody. Spending money on beautiful things eased that pain; it filled that seemingly endless hole inside him that he hadn't known existed.

It eased the pain of losing Akira, once so close, so accessible, now living over an hour away in his hometown. And in the end, Yusuke hadn't been able to afford his phone bill. Looking back, he doesn't know if any of it was worth it.

"You're right. You did tell me," Akira says. "But you know what? That changes nothing."

Yusuke wonders when arguing with Akira became such an uphill battle. He wasn't like this before, and the distance doesn't seem to have made his heart grow much fonder of Yusuke or anyone else. If anything, their time apart has become a wedge, pulling them away from one another, forcing in conflict where none existed before. But maybe it was just Yusuke who hadn't realized the anger Akira held inside, how everything he experienced had time to settle in, to make him bitter and cynical. Yusuke can relate, in a way, with how Madarame treated him; he just wants Akira to talk to him, to unburden himself, to lean on Yusuke a little.

He knows what it's like to be alone, to have no one to confide in but the one holding the key to his cage, dangling it in front of him, taunting him. Madarame's grip on the key had always seemed precarious before he met Akira — dangerous but unstable, as if it might slip through his fingers if Yusuke pressed him. Back then, he was still telling himself that he had some semblance of control over his life, but that was a lie. He was trapped like a rat in Madarame's clutches. Where could he go? To whom could he run to? More than once his dreams consisted of a lavish escape from his mentor, but that's all it ever was.

As far as Yusuke is aware, Akira doesn't have a captor like Madarame. No one has ensnared him with such cruelty, painted up and feigned as affection. And yet he still feels trapped nonetheless, unwilling to let Yusuke in no matter how much he pries.

"If you do not wish to talk about how you are feeling, then… about your Jail —"

Akira reaches across the table to squeeze Yusuke's arm. It isn't rough, but the suddenness strikes Yusuke as strange; he can't remember the last time Akira touched him like this. It was before Akira left Tokyo, back when he shared his smile so easily, as if the expression alone brought him joy. But now, he has lost that — one of the parts of him that Yusuke cherished the most.

"Don't," Akira says, finally looking at him again, catching his gaze and holding it. "Don't go near it, Yusuke. We'll deal with it when the time comes."

There's always been something about Akira's eyes that draws Yusuke in, a sort of commanding fire that dwells within. Sometimes when Akira looks at him, he doesn't want to say no. Especially when he has his glasses on; there's something about Akira's glasses that he can't quite put his finger on. An air of innocence, a whiff of naivety.

But it's like Akira's voice and expression are saying two different things now. One is the voice of his leader, telling him not to proceed without his guidance. The other is the face of his friend, almost begging him to come closer. To see what he has in store, to gaze upon all that he has kept hidden.

"You're scaring me," Yusuke says, a shiver wriggling its way down his spine. "You have changed, Akira."

The hand on Yusuke's arm slinks back across the table, returning to Akira's lap. His eyes wander away again, and Yusuke almost wants to ask why — _Why do you keep looking away from me? Why has eye contact become so difficult for you?_ — but the words refuse to come. The words are pointless, as this whole meet-up today has proven.

Yusuke notices a lot about Akira. He sees the way his eyes twitch as if he's holding something back; how his fingers drum along the edge of the table; the way his hair twists and curls, still damp from the rain. But there is something about the bigger picture that he is oblivious to, and that hurts more than he could ever express with words.

"I've just opened my eyes. I realized I'm never going to be able to get through to you, Yusuke, and I just —"

The drumming stops. Yusuke hears the soft tapping of the rain against the door, as well as Morgana padding down the stairs before he starts to rummage for food in the kitchenette.

The moments weigh on until finally, Akira sighs. "It doesn't matter, does it? It never did."

He stands up to dump his coffee in the sink, and while Yusuke hears the liquid sloshing down the drain, Akira doesn't return to his booth seat. When Yusuke turns to look at him, Akira is leaning over, clutching at the edge of the sink.

"I think you should leave," he says. "I'm really tired."

Yusuke takes his request at face value, and yet something still gnaws at him, just beneath the surface. He grabs his bag and slips into his jacket, turning just once to look over at Akira's still back again.

"You know where to find me," Akira says, his voice devoid of emotion.

Yusuke thinks about how, yes, he knows where to find him physically. Finding him emotionally is another obstacle he'll have to tackle — but then he remembers Akira's Jail, just waiting to be plundered for its wealth of secrets. What revelations could be slumbering within, just out of reach? He intends to take a peek, whether or not Akira himself approves. The thought of defying the man he looks up to as his leader makes him feel both guilty and giddy at the same time.

If he can just find something to put the pieces of the puzzle together, to find what to say that can help Akira.

Yusuke has to know.

He's so preoccupied with his thoughts that it isn't until he's out the door that he realizes he heard something. Someone's voice. But the door of Leblanc closes behind him, chime tinkling, and he figures he just imagined it over the sound of the pouring rain.

Akira didn't seem like he had much to say to Yusuke, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this back before Scramble came out, so I figured it was time to start posting.


	2. Kitagawa Yusuke in Prison

When Yusuke imagined Akira's Jail, he saw red: the sunset stained sky, the blood-encrusted path leading up to whatever castle his heart materialized.

But in reality, everything is bright. The sky is clear and blue, and nestled in the middle of a river is a small island fortress. There is a short drawbridge connected to the island, but no matter how much Yusuke scopes it out from a distance, it doesn't look guarded. The openness of it is alluring, in a way: an invitation for Yusuke to come see, to gaze upon the wonders of Akira's intricately woven heart.

He hasn't worn his Phantom Thief attire in nearly a year, but here he is, draped in his puffy sleeves, mask, and a clipped-on tail that wags. Does this mean that Akira views him as an enemy — a threat?

The wooden bridge creaks beneath his feet, and despite his unease, he looks down, peering through the cracks at the water flowing underneath him. His hands grasp the railing as he makes his way across, wary of this strange fortress and what traps might be set in place.

But he arrives on the other side unscathed, and before he's able to investigate the entrance, the double doors slide open. This makes him pause, river water rushing impatiently below him as he ponders the potential nature of this trap.

Why would Akira allow anyone into such a place so willingly, somewhere so intimate? Unless Akira's other self trusts him, despite the worlds that separate them. The thought that Akira might not view him as an enemy here eases some of his worries, but he doesn't let his guard down just yet.

He makes his way through the front doors and into a large, circular room with small cells all along the walls. There doesn't seem to be anything trapped behind the bars that he can see or hear, but that doesn't mean they're empty. In the middle of the room is a simple wooden table with a chair on either side; one chair scratches against the floor as he approaches, seeming to offer him a seat.

"It's good to see you," a voice says — Akira's voice. It is all around him, echoing throughout the room, but no matter where he turns, he can't find him, can't see his face.

Until he finally steps out of the shadows, materializing from the darkness that he is inexplicably tied to. He sits down in the far chair while gesturing for Yusuke to sit opposite from him. His skin is ashen and his hair is like fire; he is Akira but different.

Yusuke's earlier conversation with Akira must have tipped his Shadow off, but that doesn't explain why he's being so cordial with him. He watches him as Akira's Shadow cocks his head, resting his elbows on the table.

"Have a seat."

Yellow eyes peer at him as he sits down, and it strikes him as odd that he is acquiescing to the request of a Shadow. But it's Akira's Shadow, and he thinks he has control of the situation — for now, at least.

"You don't trust me," the Shadow says, staring at him with amber eyes that glow. "Have I given you any reason not to? I've allowed entry to you and only you."

Yusuke shakes his head, his fist against his chest. His heart thrums. "I do not understand."

"You will," the Shadow says. Something in his leonine voice lures him forward, coaxing him into a false sense of comfort. "Why have you come?"

"I wish to assist you — Akira."

"And how do you figure you'll do that?" The Shadow smiles again, but it's curled with sadness now, as if tormenting Yusuke with riddles doesn't bring him the joy he seeks. "You really don't know anything, do you?"

 _I've just opened my eyes,_ Akira had said. _I realized I'm never going to be able to get through to you._

Yusuke wants to open his eyes, too. He scowls, barely visible beneath the snout of his mask, but the Shadow knows. The creature recoils in a mocking flourish, red fingers clutching at an empty chest.

 _Do Shadows dream?_ Yusuke wonders. _Is there a heart billowing somewhere deep in that chest?_

If there is, he imagines it's made of construction paper, crinkly and fake. Nothing like that of a human's, but maybe it's real to this Shadow. Maybe it's one of the only bits of humanity this creature has to hold onto.

"No, not like that," Shadow Akira whines. His eyes glow gold, sparkling in the dim light. "Don't look at me like that, Yusuke. Like you think I'm repulsive. Please."

Is that what he thinks? Yusuke could never find any part of Akira disgusting; he is a web of newness, of fresh ideas and perspectives that always surprises him. He's seen the hatred behind his eyes for the people like Shido who trample on others, who hurt; people like Madarame, who abuse; the police who beat him, the ones who let their hatred blind them, their sense of justice skewed by what they are told to see.

Even Akira's Shadow is beautiful, his appearance a stark contrast to the man himself. He is still part of the man that Yusuke adores, no matter what shred of darkness in Akira's heart might have birthed his existence.

In the blink of an eye, the Shadow's mask is gone. He looks so much more vulnerable without it, his eyelids creasing with concern.

"I mean that you don't know anything about this," the creature murmurs ominously, grabbing the front of Yusuke's outfit before he has time to dodge. His chest is pulled over the table, the rough edge digging into his hips. The Shadow's face is so close to him now; despite looking so much like Akira, he doesn't smell like him at all. There is no coffee upon his breath, no specks of dust from the attic clinging to his hair. In a strange way, he is pure: just fire and shadow.

And then he kisses him, pushing his mask off to clatter on the ground. Lips of ash against pale flesh. His tongue worms its way into his mouth, and he can't help but gasp. Yusuke clutches at the lapels of the Shadow's coat, squeezing the fabric in his hands, before letting his fingers creep up to touch his neck. Soft. There's a pulse thrumming in his throat, wild and free.

Maybe Shadows really do have hearts inside them.

What a strange manner of attack. Shadows are always so cunning, so violent, but this is different. The only pain is in his hips where the table digs into him, and even then, Akira's Shadow is easing him back to the floor after he notices him squirming. He doesn't want to hurt him — not yet, at least.

His hand remains on Yusuke's sleeve, grip loose as if he trusts him not to run. Not to abandon him here in this prison based on his own heart.

Yusuke will not leave him. The real Akira might be unwilling to divulge his pain to him, to draw upon whatever trauma is festering within, but his Shadow has been much more agreeable so far. Giddiness swims through Yusuke, his skin clammy with sweat. He'll be able to help Akira soon — his leader, his friend.

"Do you know what I said to you when you were leaving Leblanc?" the Shadow asks. He walks around the table, his hand never leaving Yusuke's arm. Blood red on navy blue. "I said 'don't go.' I was begging you, and it was useless. You didn't hear me; you never do."

Yusuke flinches. These creatures always know just what to say to inflict the most emotional damage, to hit where it truly hurts. The fact that Akira needed him, was asking for him to stay, and that Yusuke left him — it's a painful thought.

"I am always listening to you," he protests. They're close enough again that Yusuke can feel the warmth of his breath. The humor once painted in his amber eyes has dissipated. "Listening for you: your voice, your footsteps, your laugh."

"That's not it. You're not hearing me. Not seeing me. You're an artist and you're always watching, and yet you never really see anything, do you?"

Akira's Shadow closes in on him, pushing Yusuke into the table, its legs screeching against the floor. But then the Shadow's eyes open wide in an ominous glare, and the table stops moving. Silence. This creature controls the setting of the Jail, but Yusuke won't allow him to control the story.

"You're just trying to hurt me now. To insult me, to drag me down into the darkness with you."

The Shadow cups his cheek, and his likeness to the real Akira makes Yusuke's eyes water. He runs his thumb across his lip before dipping inside, exploring Yusuke's mouth. His glove is devoid of taste, an artificial entity pressing inside him.

Such sadness in those eyes, the infinite nothingness. Such beauty, the pools of gold.

"I would never hurt you, Yusuke. Not on purpose."

"Then why have you been so —"

"Your eyes see much," the Shadow interrupts, his finger wet as he trails it along Yusuke's jaw. "But not all. That's what first made me fall in love with you, after all: the way you look at everything, the way you soak in the world in ways other people couldn't even dream of."

"Then why do you continue to pull away from me?" Yusuke asks, even as Akira's Shadow closes the distance between them, his leg stepping between Yusuke's.

"Because it's too much for me." The justification falls flat. "Because you don't love me."

"How could you possibly know how I feel?"

 _You, a mere Shadow,_ Yusuke almost argues. _A creature of darkness where Akira is the light: when I walk into the room, when I share my paintings with him._

_He always lights up, as if —_

_As if I matter._

Akira's Shadow wipes away the tear sliding down Yusuke's cheek.

"Because you don't look at me the way you look at the world," he says, voice sad, an endless spiral of loneliness, of feelings kept shuttered.

Their next kiss tastes like the salt from Yusuke's tears. He doesn't know what to do with his lips or hands, so he lets the Shadow move him as he pleases. One hand is on the small of Yusuke's back, keeping him from collapsing back onto the table, while the other toys with the pull of his zipper. It clinks ever so slightly against the zipper's teeth as it's pulled open more and more, centimeter by centimeter.

Yusuke ventured into the Jail for Akira's sake, but now he isn't sure what makes him stay. Is it selfishness or dedication, his adoration for Akira or the desire welling up inside him?

"Why are you so gentle with me?" Yusuke demands, brushing the Shadow's ashen cheek with his thumb. His gloves are laid out on the table behind him, allowing him to feel skin on skin as he has never experienced. "Why are you so careful?"

A grin against his neck. Lips cold.

"Haven't you figured that out by now?" A pause, and Yusuke's heart flutters, his hands clutching at the back of the Shadow's coat. "It's because you are my Treasure."

"Our Treasure," a multitude of voices chime in, all at once. An echo of a deeply embedded desire.

Akira's Shadow, the one with ashen skin and hair like flames, pulls Yusuke's zipper down the rest of the way. But it's all just for show, all just to tease, and suddenly Yusuke is bare of all clothing.

_What must he see me as now, then, if not a threat?_

The other Shadows pour into the room from the various jail cells; they hadn't been empty, after all. There's Akira in his Joker attire, his hair dark like his usual self; Akira in his pajamas; another in a graphic t-shirt that's only vaguely familiar to Yusuke, a pair of headphones slung around his neck; and more.

Then there's Akira in his Shujin uniform, with his blazer and plaid slacks. It's what he wore when Yusuke first met him. When Akira adjusts his glasses before they slip down his nose, he smiles, and there's something so genuine about his expression that Yusuke's heart melts.

He twists his body to meet his lips, unabashed at his own nudity, even as the other Shadow stands between his legs, squeezing his hips.

Should he be cold? There're his nakedness and the chill of the prison, enshrouding him. Or should he be warm, surrounded by the man he adores, despite them being shades of imitation? Facets of darkness.

Although Yusuke is surrounded, he is unafraid. Akira won't hurt him. He cups his cheek, staring into his eyes through the lens of his glasses, and still Akira smiles at him.

"Is this what you want?" Yusuke asks. The words are difficult to form, such an immodest presumption, but he manages. "Is it me that you desire?"

"Yes." The voices ripple through the room in waves.

It's a bad idea, both selfish and careless. What would his former teammates think if they saw him now, naked and willing, in the embrace of the very creatures they had once fought?

Nobody has ever desired Yusuke before, not once. Not like this, filling an entire room with lust and heat and harsh truths. Yusuke hadn't known. How could Akira love him, to the point that he sought out strangers to satiate him? The thought still sounds preposterous.

He thinks of all the videos Ryuji had mentioned. Had Akira smiled in any of them? Did he find joy in the ruse?

Half a dozen Akiras crowd around him now.

This too pales in comparison to the real thing, but Yusuke still succumbs. A multitude of hands brush his skin, from his collarbone down to his stomach, and he is lost.


End file.
